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<title>Three Letters to Abigail Williams by ImNotPaulAvery</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28612620">Three Letters to Abigail Williams</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImNotPaulAvery/pseuds/ImNotPaulAvery'>ImNotPaulAvery</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Crucible - Miller</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Letters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:47:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,356</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28612620</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImNotPaulAvery/pseuds/ImNotPaulAvery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>From Mister John Proctor, Miss Mary Waren, and Mrs Elizabeth Proctor</p><p>To Abigail Williams</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elizabeth Proctor/John Proctor, John Proctor/Abigail Williams</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. From John, To Abby</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>March 3rd, 1692</p><p>From Mr John Proctor.</p><p>To Miss Abigail Williams.</p><p>Sweetest Abigail,</p><p>	You’ve gone six day now, dear Abby. How might I write this letter to thee? My guilt is overflowing and my good Christian conscience is bursting. The memory of our ancient yearn for one another is often with me, yet the thought that loathing, anger and contempt taketh that place in mine heart once held by thine love destroyeth I. My lustful and sinful action hath driven thee back to thine uncle’s, and I pity thee.  I lovèd thee marvelous well Abigail, but a sadder face hath never been seen in this house. My good wife cannot bear this treachery and deceit that we have forced unto her. She might have found it in herself to forgive our sins, had she been in good health, but now ‘twould be a greater burthen on her heart. She is sick, Abigail, and I cannot in good conscience allow what hath happened to happen again. I hath destroyed her, as she utters to me in the dead of night ‘I never wished to be a shrew to thee. I have become as Job’s wife’ and it breaketh me. She blameth her own self. She hath had doubt in her faith due to our greedy actions, and I shall not stand for it, as ‘tis not her fault we engaged in wickedness. We have but ourselves to blame.  I now soberly assure you, dear Abigail, that this is an eternal farewell.</p><p>I hath been reduced to a thing that wants. Unchristian in faith, and uncontrollable in life. My lust for thee maketh me a selfish, hateful man. I hath neglected my prayer, and broke my vows. Now it must stop. I’ve heard thee say to me, in the early hours of the day, ‘how can our sin be evil if ‘tis also beautiful?’ In that moment I could not speak, but now I will answer. Mayhaps thou wouldst call our ‘love’ bittersweet, but our sin was ugly, no matter the beauty thou found within. There might be something unholy desirable in the forbidden, but in God’s good name we must repent for our eating of the apple. </p><p>Love is not my religion, so I could not in good faith, forceth thee to be accomplice to my lapse in judgement. List me Abigail, dost thou not love the word of God? Love thee Prayer? Love thee the Bible? Pray, girl, pray, and ye shall find thoust’s reward in His kingdom of Heaven. Thee might still be forgiven, however I am detestable. </p><p>Burn this letter, and let this be the last time we converse.</p><p>Fare thee well,<br/>
Mister John Proctor</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Wrote these for my 11th grade english creative writing project. Might be worthless.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. From Mary, To Abby</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>October 13th, 1692</p><p>From Miss Mary Warren.</p><p>To Miss Abigail Williams.</p><p>Dear Abby,</p><p>	It be four day now since thou cursed me away to this horrid place. There be iron on the windows, and the floors be so cold my toeses freeze off. The smell of dung and tobacco maketh mine eyes weep, and I cannot sleep for the floors be riddled with bugs and dirt. Yet none is more awful than the thought of thee putting me here. How could thee Abby? I had not a choice in the matter, Mister Proctor hath forced me to speak out against thee! Abby, I know not what might be truth, but it maketh me sick that thou lied and called me Devil. These be tall tales thou tell'st Abby.</p><p>	Abby, I beggeth thee, admit that thou hath lied when thee mentioned that Devil bird. I beg at thy hands in that prayer which Christ himself hath taught me, tell the Judge that I am innocent! I batheth not in the Devil’s blood, and I hath never signed my name to his unholy book. I loveth thee, Abby, I do! ‘Tis known in my heart that I loveth thee! But I know what thou’s intention was, with the chicken blood and Tituba’s songs, and I agreèd then to help, but fear that thee hath gone too far, and now I sit in Salem’s dirty cells. Thou art not pure Abby, I knoweth this as fact. Thee tried to kill Goody Proctor, and now thee killeth me! Thou hast condemned me!</p><p>	I am a Christian, for I love God. In the rare hours in which I was able to shut mine eyes and allow my feeble body to find rest, I dreameth that I walked on earth with Christ! He embracèd me with warmth and ravishèd me with love. He pardoned my sins, and I felt the love one’s husband ought to give! My love, my Lord, kissèd me with the kisses of his sweet and holy mouth. How lovely art his mouth, how lovely his embrace! Mine cheeks had tears frozen upon them when I awoke in the morn’. If thou cannot save me I know that my Lord, my Jesus, will.<br/>
Wholly thine I am, my sweet Lord Jesus! </p><p>God save thee Abigail Williams.</p><p>Your Obedient Servant,<br/>
Mary Warren</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Miss gurl had a s*x dream about hunky jesus. can't blame her.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. From Mrs Proctor, to Harlot</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>January 17th, 1693</p><p>From Mrs Elizabeth Proctor.</p><p>To Harlot.</p><p>Dear Jezabel, </p><p>	A fortnight passes yet and you are still not returned. Hath thee run off, like a coward and a thief, for stealing thine uncle’s money? I believe this to be the honest truth. Thou, harlot, thou art the one who put us all in this unholy mess. Thou be the Devil incarnate, perhaps the Antichrist in mine eyes. Whither were thee these past weeks? Ye maketh a mess and abandon it? Thine uncle’s not slept a night since thy departure, whether he fears for thine safety or his money, I do not pretend to know. There be a rumour around Salem that thou and Mercy Lewis hath run to escape the demons thou hath unleashed here, and that thou liveth thy life with the Devil in tow. Run, girl, but know that in the eyes of God, thou art nothing but a whore, and an abydocomist. Thou hath ruined me, and maketh me a shrew of a woman. But that will not bringeth thee any shame in thou’s eyes, I knoweth this. Thou’s plan was to send me to an early grave, but, dear girl, I live.</p><p>	My husband however, the man linked to me through marriage and the Lord, with whom I birthed three children to, is dead. He hath died because of thou’s heinous and untrue lies. Ye makèd this plan to hurt me, so how is it that John is dead? He was a good man, and a good Christian, but now, he is neither. He will never meet his fourth child, nor will he ever see his other boys again, because of thou! I cannot be judged by false contended Christians, and so I spit at thee, and any person who cries “witch!” my way. Thine plan to ruin me hath succeeded as I am with child, homeless, and near insane. I must search in hopes of finding a new village in which to raise my children and remarry, not only because I am shunned in this Babylon, but because I cannot bear the thought of living in the community that killed my John. My John. </p><p>	Is one born holy and righteous? No, nay! My first father sinned and I in him, but I do not spread lies that end in someone’s ruin, and thou, thou’s lies and slander hath killed more than one and twenty good Christians, good people. 'Tis God alone, who knows who art righteous and who  not. Who might be son of Abraham and who not. Who art good and who evil. Who be Christian and who worship Satan. But I can see it, tart, that thou art truly evil. God cannot save thee, girl, and I fear he cannot save me neither. I weep at night, when I know mine boys cannot hear, and I weep at night, when I know Christ himself can. Thou hath made me a pathetic and weak woman, and I ache for the day thou burneth in Lucifer’s Hell. </p><p>As my skin be fire, the hate in mine heart bid thee good day,<br/>
Mrs. John Proctor</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>can u tell i like the vvitch lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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